


Hold on to the Corners of Today

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Childhood Friends, M/M, Minor Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 09:53:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11826276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: When Bellamy tells him that Clarke's renting her spare room out to Monty Green, Nate doesn't really think much of it. He liked the kid well enough in high school, but he didn't leave much of an impression.But it turns out Monty gotreally stupid hotin the last twelve years, so fuck his life, basically.





	Hold on to the Corners of Today

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of [Monty's really stupid hot](http://ponyregrets.tumblr.com/post/164249888869/infobellarke-tasyateles-sup-the100-gents) S5 look. Damn, Monty.

"Oh hey, you remember Octavia's friend Monty, right?"

It's a casual, innocent question from Bellamy, asked without a second thought, and at the time, Nate doesn't think anything of it either. Monty was in Octavia's grade in high school, although he was some kind of prodigy, so he was actually a year younger than she was. She'd hang out with him and Jasper Jordan and pick fights with anyone who was mean to them. Nate and Bellamy got into a few fights themselves over the whole thing, and he never regretted them, even when his dad shook his head and grounded him. Monty and Jasper were cute kids, and no one actually deserves to get beaten up. His conscience is clear.

"Yeah, what about him?" he asks.

"He's Clarke's new roommate, so we're doing housewarming board games at their apartment next week. I assume you're in."

"I still can't believe you didn't just move in with her. You're going to make Monty listen to you have sex?"

"Yeah, we'll be holding him at gunpoint forcing him to witness it," he says, dry. "Her walls are pretty thick. It's fine. And it's way too soon to move in together anyway."

Nate understands the theoretical argument there, since Bellamy and Clarke have only been officially dating for a month, but they've been working up to it for years, so it doesn't really feel like the same thing. It's like when you go into college with AP credits; you get to start at a higher level, in recognition of your previous academic achievements.

"Sure it is," he says, patting Bellamy's shoulder. "How does she know Monty?"

"She doesn't. We were looking at her applicants and I saw him, and once we figured out it was the same Monty, I vouched for him. Apparently he just finished grad school and got some really advanced job at a tech startup, so Clarke wants to introduce him to Raven. And reintroduce him to you."

"So she has an ulterior motive for inviting people over for board games? Dude, your girlfriend is terrifying."

"Getting Monty friends is the only motive."

"Yeah but she's going to pretend this is a chill casual event and really it's networking with more shit talking."

"Which is pretty much what friendship for us," Bellamy points out. "Sorry, does this mean you don't want to come?"

"Of course I'm coming. Someone has to protect Monty from you assholes."

"You're a saint," says Bellamy, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll tell Clarke you're in."

"Just for Monty," he says, and it really is supposed to be a joke.

Octavia and Bellamy, and by extension Monty and Nate, only had a single year of overlap in high school, when Octavia and Monty were freshmen and Bellamy and Nate were seniors, so Nate's mental image of Monty Green is as this small, awkward fourteen-year-old with shaggy hair and giant glasses that were constantly falling down. The memory of him has remained strong in large part and kind of embarrassingly because it somehow became his mental image of fucking _Harry Potter_ , and any time anyone references the character or the books, Nate thinks of little Monty Green in his over-sized t-shirt and thick-framed glasses.

And he wouldn't have said that was what he was expecting, exactly. It's not like he looks the same as he did in high school, but he thinks he looks similar. He's a logical development of himself; he's gotten a little more ripped, grown some facial hair, has generally kind of settled into the person he'd like to be. And part of him subconsciously assumed that Monty Green, twenty-five and settled into himself, would look a lot like Monty Green at fourteen, not too concerned with his appearance, messy and a little disheveled, but eager and enthusiastic and kind of weirdly cute. 

The person who opens Clarke's door is not, by any stretch of the imagination, that Monty Green.

He's taller, which isn't really a surprise, and his build is still slim, but where as a teenager he was scrawny, now he's _lean_. His hair is cut short and carefully styled, emphasizing the perfect bone structure Nate didn't realize he had, and his lips are full and slightly parted, as if he was saying something and stopped when he heard the knock on the door. His t-shirt and jeans are the same basic uniform he wore in high school, but this time his dorky t-shirt (black, with No-Face's mask from _Spirited Away_ in the center with a smaller, smiling mouth positioned beneath it) actually fits him and emphasizes his new (to Nate) muscles and the width of his arms. The jeans, too, are worn in and flattering, and the whole look is basically textbook hot geek, but not only is he the platonic ideal of hot geek, Nate is really, _really_ into that look.

He didn't see this one coming.

Monty's face breaks out into a wide grin, and the expression is familiar too, it's just that instead of being on an adorable kid who was slotted into a nebulous realm between little brother and friend, it's on a very hot near-stranger whom Nate would like to drag off to make out somewhere private. 

So that's not ideal.

"Miller!" he says, so _pleased_. "Hey!"

"Hey, Monty," says Nate. His voice even comes out kind of cool. Not the terrified squeak he was worried it would be. "Welcome to Boston."

"Thanks. If I'd known I knew so many people here, I would have moved sooner."

"I was going to ask who else you knew, but I guess me, Bellamy, and Octavia are pretty good all by ourselves."

"Plus one of my college exes," he says. "So many people."

"Is the ex actually a plus?"

Monty shrugs. "We ended it on good terms, so yeah, I'm happy she's around. All allies are good allies, right?"

"Right," Nate agrees. It's not like the existence of a female ex rules out the possibility of Monty being into guys, of course, but he does know that it decreases the odds significantly.

Which is fine, of course. It's not like he can actually _date_ Monty Green. Monty can be hot, but that's it. He's still, well, _Monty_. Monty definitely isn't dateable.

"So, come on in," says Monty, stepping out of the way. "You want a drink? Clarke said she bought beer for you."

"What beer?" he asks, wary.

"I keep telling you, it's _called_ Miller High Life," Clarke calls from the living room. "It was made for you!"

"I fucking hate you, Griffin!" he calls back, and Monty cocks his head. "This is how we show affection."

"I wouldn't trust anyone who showed me affection with Miller High Life," says Monty, and Nate snorts.

"Right?"

"It's the fucking champagne of beers!" says Clarke.

"You're the champagne of assholes! Sorry," he adds to Monty.

"No, this is good. I wanted to get a feel for the vibe. Basically non-stop shit-talking and trolling?" 

"Basically." He grabs two of the beers out of the fridge. "You don't want one, right?"

"No thanks. Are you actually double-fisting Miller High Life? Because damn. That's some disgusting dedication."

"No, one's for Clarke. If I'm drinking it, she's drinking it."

"Yeah, this is a friend dynamic I can probably live with," he decides. His smile breaks out again, and Nate has to look away. Given what Monty is working with, he's pretty sure he'd be attracted even if he _was_ still wearing clothes two sizes too large and constantly pushing his unruly hair out of his eyes. He'd still be cute.

But the transformation from gawky teen to confident, attractive adult is a few steps beyond anything he was prepared for. Not that he ever really feels prepared for crushes. He's the kind of person who will go years without romantic attraction and every time he does, he wonders if he's done with it, if he's just not going to be interested in that kind of companionship again, and every time he is, it feels like getting hit in face with a two-by-four, not only surprising and kind of terrible, but vaguely offensive. He can't help wondering what he did to deserve this kind of inconvenience in his life.

And Monty is incredibly inconvenient.

For one thing, he's not one of those crushes just Nate sees every now and then and can forget about most of the time. He lives with Clarke, who is not only Bellamy's girlfriend, but one of Nate's best friends too. He's reconnected with Octavia and bonded with Raven. He gets along with Lincoln and even with Murphy and Emori, who can be kind of prickly. He's at every social event, and he usually sits next to Nate at those social events, and it feels like he never gets a _break_. He is constantly being reminded that Monty Green is smart and funny and stupidly hot, and that they get along like a house on fire.

Except for the sexuality thing. That's the real inconvenience of Monty, honestly. Nate could deal with the attraction, could even deal with the slight churning guilt about having a crush on someone he once thought of as just a kid, given everyone he has ever dated was one fourteen years old, but if Monty likes guys, he hasn't heard about it. His facebook is silent on the issue, and aside from occasionally bringing his ex-girlfriend Harper along to things, he's been completely silent about all aspects of his sexuality and love life.

Not that Nate's brought his up either, but he was out in high school, so he doesn't see why that would have changed. He had a boyfriend when Monty knew him. His sexuality is basically public knowledge, or should be. And, statistically speaking, it's unlikely that Monty's is compatible with it. He knows that. And it's hard for him to think of anything less fun than spending a lot of time with someone he likes who will never be romantically interested in him, except that _not_ spending time with them will always be worse. 

So his life sucks, and it's Monty's fault, and he can't even be mad about it. 

He can be mad at Bellamy, at least, because it takes him a good month and a half before he asks, "So, how's that crush on Monty going?"

"Fuck you," says Nate, reflexive.

"Maybe if I wasn't dating Clarke, but I think she'd probably object. Plus, fucking someone else to avoid your feelings always seemed like a shitty plan to me. Seriously, how's it going?" he adds. "I honestly can't tell."

"It sucks, shut up."

"I forgot how much fun you are with a crush."

"Seriously, it's the worst." But of course, he's been dying to talk about it, and he still wants to, and he's not going to actually pass up the opportunity to complain to his best friend. He put up with _years_ of Bellamy mooning after Clarke; it's Bellamy's turn to talk him through feelings. "He wasn't supposed to get hot."

"Yeah, that was a shock for everyone."

He wets his lips. "He has an ex-girlfriend."

"I have a current girlfriend. I still like guys. She still likes girls."

"Has that come up?" he asks.

"No. You want me to start a conversation about bisexuality for you?" Bellamy asks. "You think that would help?"

"Honestly? Kind of. I know there's, like--odds aren't in my favor. Most people are straight. But it would be good to hear him say it."

"Yeah, I get that." 

Nate squints at him. "You're being weirdly supportive."

"I'm always supportive. I love you and want what's best for you," he says, pitching his voice for sarcasm, but of course it's true. Bellamy totally loves him and wants what's best for him. But there's usually more mockery involved. "I'll make fun of you once you know if you've got a chance or not," he adds, before Nate can say anything else. "I'm never going to make fun of you for having a thing for a straight guy. Having a thing for a straight guy fucking _sucks_."

Nate drops his head onto Bellamy's shoulder. "You're a good friend."

"I am. I'll see if I can figure out some good bisexual conversation starters."

"Just sing the bi song from _Crazy Ex-Girlfriend_."

"That's kind of a last resort. But I'll keep it in mind."

"Never mind, you're not a good friend anymore."

Bellamy snorts. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

Nate doesn't let his guard down after that, even though he's got Bellamy on his side now. If anything, he's on edge the next few times they all hang out, equally anxious and impatient for Bellamy's clumsy attempt to bring bisexuality up naturally. It might make him cringe, but the end result will be worth it, hopefully. He'd rather know than not know.

But Bellamy surprises him, because it's neither clumsy nor obvious, and it comes from Clarke. It _could_ just be a coincidence, but he has trouble believing that. It's kind of sweet, honestly. They probably had a strategy meeting to talk everything through, like the over-achieving weirdos that they are.

Clarke's approach is simple and probably completely honest, it's just the timing that Nate finds suspect. He, Bellamy, and Monty are at the bar where Gina works, waiting for trivia to start, when Clarke shows up a few minutes late and collapses directly into Bellamy's side.

"Bad day at the office?" he asks, mild.

"I got into a fight with one of my coworkers about how disrespectful it was for me to have a rainbow pin on my bag. Sorry I'm co-opting your culture and shoving my hetero-passing privilege in your face," she tells Nate.

"Yeah, how dare you," he says, frowning. "Someone said you couldn't have _rainbow_ shit? Seriously?"

"I'm not gay, and I'm a woman with a boyfriend, so--"

"Jesus."

"Don't get me wrong, I like the bi flag," she says. "But it's way easier to find rainbow stuff. Most of the mainstream pride stuff is rainbow. I like my rainbow stuff."

"And you know, hetero-passing is such bullshit," Monty pipes up, and Nate's stomach lurches. "Everyone who is not actively and obviously exhibiting a same-sex relationship passes for hetero. We're all passing for hetero right now, and Miller and I aren't even trying."

Bellamy takes a sip of his drink, raising his eyebrows in Monty's direction. "Are you passing?" 

Monty makes a show of looking down at himself, taking in his faded Captain Planet shirt and jeans. Nate looks him over too, but he's at least a little bit subtle about it. "Am I not? Am I giving off intense pansexual vibes right now? Because that would be awesome. I've been working on that."

Nate's heart stops for a second, but Bellamy takes it in stride. "I have trouble with telling if people are actually queer or just not dicks about other people's sexualities."

"Oh! Did I never come out to you guys? I thought I was already out in high school."

"Freshman year?" Bellamy asks, and then reconsiders. "Fuck, you might have been, I don't know. I didn't actually pay much attention to my sister's friend's sexualities unless I thought they were hitting on her."

"Yeah, no, she was terrifying. Jasper had a thing for her but I was always like, I'm going to go for the cute quiet boy who pretends he doesn't write poetry but totally does. And that got me through high school, basically. It wasn't until college that I reassessed my feelings on girls."

"And you started IDing as pan?" Clarke asks.

"Eventually. I went through a bunch of labels. It was my first time being away from Jasper--he's been my best friend since we were in diapers," he adds to Clarke. "And I think that was part of why I went with gay for so long, because he was like--" He waves his hand. "My model of heterosexuality. He started talking about girls when we were like _nine_ , and I was just like, chill, I just want to play with my Legos in peace. But once I started identifying as gay, that actually stopped him, and I got some breathing room." He shrugs. "But, yeah. College came around and I spread my wings a little. These days I generally ID as demi and pan, because it always takes me a while to get attracted to people." When no one replies, he wets his lips. "Sorry, too much information?"

"I was just feeling really boring," Nate says, recovering his voice. "I'm just gay. It was really easy."

"Hey, that's cool. You were totally an inspiration to me. You were the first guy I ever knew who was out. I didn't realize it was an option before that."

"Glad I could help," he says, automatic, but he really does mean it. It had never occurred to him that he might have been a role model to anyone, let alone Monty.

"Anyway, yeah. Someone else talk," he says. "That was way too much personal information. I'm done."

"We can talk about how I'm going to cover my office in rainbows and pictures of me and Bellamy to rub my continuing validity in my stupid coworker's face," Clarke says, bright, and the conversation turns to decorating suggestions.

Under the table, Bellamy nudges Nate's foot, and Nate nudges back, not letting himself grin.

Not, of course, that knowing Monty is pan solves all his problems. All it really does is clarify them. Now he knows that he has an increasingly large crush on Monty, and there is a possibility Monty might be into him. Because he is, apparently, kind of Monty's type. He doesn't write much poetry anymore, but he is quiet and kind of cute, he thinks.

Okay, not _cute_ , but--attractive. He could be totally be Monty's type. If he's lucky.

He just needs to figure out how to figure that out. It's honestly a miracle he has ever dated anyone.

"You need to spend some time one-on-one with him," Clarke advises. Now that she and Bellamy are actually together, she acts like she's a good resource or something, which is bullshit, but he'll take all the help he can get. "You guys are good at going off into your own world, but everyone else is still around when you do, so--alone time is good."

"Yeah, I remember when Bellamy spent like a week trying to come up with a casual activity he could ask just you to do so you guys could get some privacy."

She looks pleased. "What did he come up with?"

"That Roman art exhibit at the museum three years ago," Bellamy says, and she laughs.

"That was you hitting on me?"

"It was a process, okay?" he grumbles. "I was working on it. Step one."

"You can't say it didn't work," Nate points out, and Clarke inclines her head.

"It totally worked. And that's not a bad idea."

"Which part?"

"The museum, but--your equivalent. Something Monty would be into, video games or whatever. Just tell him that now that me and Bellamy are together you lost your regular date for whatever dorky stuff you guys used to do."

"We still do plenty of dorky stuff," Bellamy protests. "You come like half the time."

"I'm helping, be quiet. Movies isn't a great chance to talk, but you could come up with something, right? You do things."

"Sometimes," Nate grants. "Not much."

"Well, Monty doesn't do stuff much either," says Clarke. "So you're perfect for each other."

He has to smile. "Yeah. Obviously."

It really is a good idea, so that becomes his new project. He and Bellamy spend another week checking all the events they can find, dismissing most of them as boring or unromantic or just plain weird, but when they find a brewery tour organized by a local LGBT group, it feels basically perfect.

"You and Clarke need to have actual plans," he tells Bellamy. "No way Monty would buy Clarke skipping a brewery tour."

"Oh, yeah. Fuck, I'm going to have to come up with such a good date to make up for missing this."

"Both your apartments are empty. Just have sex. It's not rocket science."

"You're such a romantic."

"Yeah, it's a real mystery why I'm single. Text your girlfriend and make plans so I have an excuse ready for Monty."

"Yeah, yeah," says Bellamy. "I'm on it. You owe me."

"You're going to get laid," he points out, and Bellamy considers.

"Okay, you don't owe me. But I still want some beer."

Monty doesn't even ask why he's not asking Bellamy and Clarke, of course, because not everyone in the world is an overly suspicious asshole. He seems to just take hanging out with friends as an inherently good thing, and agrees readily and without any fanfare. Nate's trying his best to be just as chill about it as Monty is and not doing well so far. 

No surprise there. 

It's getting into fall, weather turning slightly chilly, so when Nate meets Monty at the train station after work to hit the brewery, he's in a dressed in faded gray shirt with too-long sleeves that still manages to stretch over his chest. He's got his glasses on too, delicate wire frames that enhance the whole geek chic image, and he still lights up every time he sees Nate.

Nate thinks it's mutual, but he knows he doesn't ever light up like Monty does. That's not how his face works.

"Hey!" Monty says, bouncing a little. "How was work?"

"Kind of a shitshow, honestly."

"Yeah?"

"I'm trying to fix someone else's shitty mess of code, so I basically just want to murder everyone all the time."

"Even the people who didn't do the code?"

"Well, I don't want any witnesses."

"Yeah, definitely safer to just murder everyone. Dead men tell no tales."

"I'm saying." He stuffs his hands in his pockets. "What about you? How was your day?"

"Pretty boring. Spent a lot of time watching weird vines. Startups are a really surreal place to be."

"Yeah, that's what I hear."

The conversation lulls for a bit as they walk, but Nate asks who Monty's playing in _Overwatch_ now, and they end up talking about how he used to play healers, but didn't think he was getting appreciated enough, so now he plays Hanzo just to make everyone else miserable until they learn how to respect their support characters. 

Nate doesn't want to oversell it, but he might be in love.

It's already decently crowded when they get there, scattered groups already joining up and mingling, and Nate feels like he maybe didn't really think this through. Bringing his hot crush to an event that is literally full of single queer guys was maybe not the best pickup strategy.

And then, as if he's thinking the same thing, Monty reaches over and takes his hand. 

He's not actually looking at Nate, and Nate can't tell if it's because he's really relaxed about it or because he's avoiding eye contact, but either way he's doing a great impression of someone who thinks this is a totally normal thing. Like holding hands is just a part of their regular routine. Which would be fine, obviously, but it's news to Nate.

"This should be fun, right?" Monty asks, bright. "I'm excited."

Nate gives his hand an experimental squeeze, and Monty squeezes back. "Yeah. Looking forward to it."

And it is fun. Monty lets go of his hand so they can get the stamps that certify their legality and to Nate's disappointment he doesn't take it back, but they stay close enough to each other to give off couple vibes, and no one tries to hit on either of them. They just get to have a good time hanging out together, trying some weird craft beers and making bad jokes about hops and malt and whatever else they can think of.

It feels like a great start, the first step of his Bellamy-esque plan to date his crush, and it's not until Monty lingers outside the train station, worrying his lip, that he figures it out.

"I had a--" Monty starts, and Nate cuts him off with, "Holy shit, you thought this was a date."

It's the absolute worst thing he could have said. Monty's face _crumbles_ , and Nate's brain belatedly catches up with how it must have sounded.

"Shit," Monty says. "Fuck, I--of course it wasn't--"

"No, Monty, wait--" He barks out a laugh. "I _want_ it to be a date." 

"What?"

"It was supposed to be--the first step or something. Hanging out with you one-on-one. As a prelude to dating. To figure out if you liked me. If I'd known I could have just asked you out--"

He's laughing now, which is so, so much better than the hurt, heartbroken expression he'd been wearing only a few seconds ago. "I guess I was hoping pretty hard," he says. "But--you asked if I wanted to go out with you. And held my hand. It seemed a lot like a date."

"Yeah, this would have been a great date."

Monty takes his hand again, a smile playing on his lips. "So, what was the next step in your plan? If this _wasn't_ a date."

"I was taking advice from Bellamy, so apparently three years of really obvious flirting before I finally made a move, after all my friends had threatened to fucking murder me."

He grins. "Or you could just kiss me now. Save us both some time."

He doesn't need to be asked twice.

Their second date is at Nate's on a night when Bellamy and Clarke have a date of their own, which feels like it's probably going to become their standard practice. Nate is still of the opinion that the two of each other should have just moved in together when Clarke needed a new roommate, but he can't pretend he's not benefiting from the situation.

Thank god Clarke decided to rent her spare room out, honestly.

Monty greets him with a kiss--awesome--and then immediately holds up his phone to take a picture of the two of them.

"Jasper didn't believe me, so I'm sending proof."

"Didn't believe you about what?"

"Basically my whole life. But especially the dating you part."

"What's so unbelievable about that?" 

Monty bites his lip. "Come on, who actually gets to hook up with their first crush? Even I still can't really believe it."

"Your first crush," Nate repeats.

"You didn't know? Back in high school? I thought I was so obvious and you were just being nice."

He shakes his head. "Not a clue," he admits, and Monty groans.

"Somehow that's worse? Why is that worse?"

"I don't really want to read into your high-school insecurities." He tips Monty's jaw up for another kiss. "If it makes you feel better, you're totally my crush _now_."

"You know, it really does." He pulls the picture up on his phone and examines it with a critical eye before he shows it to Nate. "That came out okay, right?"

It's the first time picture of the two of them that's ever been taken, and Nate will admit that it gives him an incredibly warm and fuzzy feeling in his stomach. "Yeah, Monty," he says, smiling. "It came out great."


End file.
